


A Sign From the Maker

by CascadianRain



Series: So Long to Devotion [7]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Chantry Boys, F/M, Falling In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 08:08:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12744390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CascadianRain/pseuds/CascadianRain
Summary: 9:35 Dragon, spring againHawke falls for Sebastian while lost on a hike on the Wounded Coast.Varric spells things out for Sebastian.





	A Sign From the Maker

A bead of sweat slid down Sebastian’s neck and into his already damp padded coat. The Coast’s humidity made being lost unpleasant, but combined with Merrill’s inane babblings it was downright unbearable. Hawke was growing angrier by the mile, though Sebastian was certain she’d tuned Merrill out a long way back.

They passed a body on the trail where a smaller trail led off down to a campsite littered with more corpses. The stench had attracted a small murder of crows, who were feasting on the fresh meat.

Varric piped up from behind Sebastian: “Hate to say it, but I think we’re going in circles.”

Sebastian drew in a breath through his teeth. He’d never have said anything aloud. Being Champion of Kirkwall for the last six or so months hadn’t exactly done wonders for Hawke’s stress.

Hawke stopped in her tracks so suddenly that Merrill bumped into her with an alarmed squeak.

“ _Fine._ ” She stormed over to the nearest cliff-face and began to climb.

Varric’s mouth dropped open. Sebastian stared, dumb-struck.

“Hawke, I don’t think—”

“That doesn’t sound like a solution to the ‘lost’ problem, Merrill, so I don’t want to hear it!” Hawke leapt down the two feet she’d climbed and glared up at the rockface.

Varric put on his most soothing, please-don’t-murder-us voice and said, “I’m sure we’ll find our way if we just go a bit further—”

“Don’t just stand there—help me _up_ ,” Hawke snapped.

Sebastian jerked forward, powerless to disobey a command from his Hawke.

He didn’t mind helping, though. Hawke’s anger wasn’t about being lost. And it wasn’t about the young, run-away mages they’d been forced to kill earlier out of self-defense. It wasn’t the warning Cullen had whispered to her that morning before he sent them out, that Meredith had assigned a few Templars specifically to keep an eye on Hawke’s doings about town. It was _everything_. Internal demons—for lack of a better term—were manifesting externally. And Sebastian knew a thing or two about letting off steam.

He braced his back against the rock and laced his fingers together, creating a stirrup for Hawke’s foot. Concern clouded Hawke’s face as she looked up at him from his hands.

He winked. “Go on, lass. I’m stronger than you think.”

She didn’t smile exactly, but she wasn’t frowning quite so much.

Hawke placed her hands on Sebastian’s shoulders to steady herself, then nestled her foot in his hands. She was so close he could smell her—he wasn’t the only one who’d built up a musk while hiking all day in the sun. Oh but her scent was intoxicating. He breathed her deep on the pretext of bracing himself, then nodded.

He hoisted her up and she soon found hand-holds, then foot-holds, making decent progress up the cliff. Sebastian took a step back and shaded his eyes to watch. Small pebbles dislodged and peppered the ground. She was nearly to the top when she gasped and her foot slipped on a loose rock.

Sebastian darted forward as stones rained down, followed by a falling Hawke. He tried to catch her... and technically he _did._

One moment he was vertical, the next he was flat on his back, the breath knocked out of him, and a bruised and moaning Hawke on top of him. As soon as air was filling his lungs again, he was laughing. And he couldn’t stop. His whole body shook, which shook Hawke, who was staring at him in bewilderment, which made him laugh more.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

Varric and Merrill jogged up to them with expressions of concern.

“That’s incredible!” Merrill said. “I didn’t think he _could_ laugh!”

“Hawke, I think you broke him,” Varric said.

“Does the Chantry have warranties on Choir Boys?” Her worry was slowly melting away into a smile that Sebastian had dearly missed.

The laughter wasn’t doing his bruised ribs any favours, but Maker it was worth it. Hawke peered down at him in growing wonder, still nestled atop him like it was the most natural thing in the world. Their curves fit together perfectly.

Laughter became chuckles became a tender smile only for Hawke. Sebastian brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Quietly, so the others couldn’t hear, Hawke said, “Maybe I should fall for you more often.”

He ran his thumb down the curve of her ear, heart feeling lighter than it had in too many years. “I would like that, _mo cridhe_.”

\+ + +

The setting sun threw golden light across the Coast as they settled into their camp for the night. Sebastian eased himself down against a thick log, relieved of food and firewood gathering duties because of his honorably received injuries. With the fire built, Varric set to cleaning his crossbow while Hawke and Merrill headed off to forage.

Sebastian leaned his head back on the log, breathing deep of the glorious smells of the Coast. Salty air, woodsmoke from the kindling fire, cedar and pine, sage and sea. The brightest stars were emerging in the twilight, winking down at him from the heavens.

“You know, Choir boy, you aren’t half bad.”

Sebastian let out a bark laughter, then winced and massaged his bruised ribs. “Varric, you humble me.”

“No, I mean it. Hawke has a bad habit of attracting broken, wounded people who aren’t always there when she needs them. Even I can’t always be around, such is the burden of running a merchant house. But you could’ve left for Starkhaven months ago, or said ‘thanks for killing that demon, back to the quiet life of a Chantry initiate.’”

Sebastian watched the fire consume its fuel, turning wood black and snapping with a flurry of sparks. Last summer, he wouldn’t have known the answer for why he stayed—some indescribable need to stand at the edge of the storm. Now it was a secret held close to his chest. “I owe Hawke my life a few times over. It would be impossible for me to abandon her so easily.”

Varric sighted down Bianca at a distant tree, then adjusted a knob and checked again. Casually, he said, “What _are_ your plans for Starkhaven these days?”

Sebastian smirked mirthlessly at the obvious probing question. “I’ve noticed Bianca’s aim is a little off. It’s probably the cocking ring. I could take a look if you like.”

Varric spluttered and stared at Sebastian with barely veiled outrage. “Don’t you dare touch Bianca _or_ her cocking ring.”

Flashing a palm in surrender, he said, “It was just a thought.”

The dwarf snorted angrily and settled back down against his log. He did check the cocking ring though.

With Varric thwarted for the moment, Sebastian’s eyes slid closed as the memory of earlier came back to him. Hawke’s wide blue eyes peering down at him, the glorious sky haloing her face. Something had changed in that moment. She hadn’t been the same for the rest of the afternoon. Glancing at him now and then and if he happened to catch her eye, she startled and charged on ahead up the path.

Out here on the Coast, far from the Chantry’s shadow, life was good. For this one, shining day when anything felt possible.

“I’m still curious about Starkhaven.” Varric broke into his thoughts. “You’ve been talking about it in less theoretical terms lately.”

“Why does it concern you, Varric? Hoping to expand business into a city-state experiencing a power shift?”

“Perhaps. You’ve been waiting for a sign from the Maker, was it? About which side of your coin to let land face up?”

No matter how much Hawke trusted Varric, Sebastian didn’t have any illusions of how far Varric’s loyalty extended beyond their mutual friend. But may as well see where this was going. He nodded.

“What shape are you expecting this sign to come in?”

Ah, it was a different sort of conversation. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep through his nose, slowly exhaling through his lips. It was a question he’d asked himself many times, in the dark hours when the silence bore down upon him. “A certainty in my heart. An act from the usurper so vile that it would be my duty as Brother _and_ Prince to put an end to it. A voice in the quiet while I pray.”

“Or the usual rays of golden light, doves flying east, tea leaves in the shape of the Starkhaven crest—that sort of thing?”

Sebastian frowned at Varric’s dismissive tone. “Yes, I suppose.”

“And what about a woman?”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. What about a woman to replace Andraste? Did you ever consider that love is the strongest sign of all? Do you know how many wars have been fought and kingdoms raised or shattered all because of love?”

Sebastian stared into the fire. This couldn’t be right—Varric disapproved of _all_ of Hawke’s romantic dalliances. They interfered with palling around the city and Deep Roads expeditions. “My vows...”

“Your years in the Chantry and your vows have shaped you into a man who will rule Starkhaven better than the one you were before.” Bianca lay in Varric’s lap, forgotten. He pinned Sebastian down with a gaze intensified by the growing fire beside them. “Was there certainty in your heart when you posted that notice to the Chanter’s Board?”

Sebastian sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Yes.”

“And who answered it?”

“Hawke.”

“Who helped you root out the demon behind your family’s murder?”

Sebastian avoided Varric’s stare. Through clenched teeth, he admitted, “Hawke.”

“If that’s not a sign from the Maker, I don’t know what is.”

There was more that Varric didn’t know. That between those two things, Hawke had single-handedly saved the Vael family from extinction. When he crawled to her door and she laid her hands upon him, securing his spirit to his mortal form.

It was Hawke who made him want more. Hawke who gave him hope for an uncertain future. Hawke who pushed him to be better. Hawke who would steal his vows, just as she stole his breath every time he looked at her.

He’d begged the Maker for any clue as to which path to follow—could it be possible that the Maker had sent him that sign before he’d thought to ask? A shining champion to serve in place of Andraste. A warm, vibrant force to replace the vast emptiness of the Kirkwall Chantry.

In truth, the only reason he’d been thinking more of Starkhaven was because a fantasy had slithered into his mind. He remembered a modest castle perched atop a gleaming city, filled with rich carpets and four-poster beds and portraits of his ancestors. His childhood home, where things weren’t always happy, but they were _safe_. It was the easiest thing to see himself back there with Charlie at his side, their armor replaced with woolen tartan, standing in the soft morning light. He wanted to fill that castle with joy. Wanted that life for them. That is, if she wanted it too. If he should be so lucky.

Such fantasies weren’t enough to draw him away from the place that had sheltered him when he had nothing— _was_ nothing. While Varric’s words rang pure as a bell in the Chantry tower, Sebastian saw now that a sign was not enough either. Life was more complicated than the toss of a coin. Brother or Prince—for now, he must be the former on the outside, and the latter in his heart.

“Varric... why is it that you care what becomes of me or Starkhaven?”

Varric didn't look up from polishing Bianca's grip. “Like I said, you aren’t half bad, Choir Boy. And I care about Hawke.”

Distant voices carried up the trail, heralding Hawke and Merrill's return. As they approached the edge of the fire's glow, Hawke's gaze flitted up to Sebastian's eyes. Warmth filled him up as though poured from a shining ewer of light and a smile broke across his face.

“As do I.”

For that reason, he would not pursue the woman he had grown to love. He would support her with all he had to give while the world threatened to crumble around them. He would not steal her away from the city that she fought for—not until she asked it of him.


End file.
